


The Long Hour Home

by Nautilusopus



Series: FFVII Halloween Week 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, no betas here we die like men, when in doubt rip off The Twilight Zone, wish this was longer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nautilusopus/pseuds/Nautilusopus
Summary: Cloud returns home for the day, for the last time.(Written for FFVII Halloween Week: Day 3 - Gothic)





	The Long Hour Home

**Author's Note:**

> This has actually been in my prompts list for the last two years, but I sat on it for a while because ????. Kinda wish I had time to expand this one a little more, so perhaps I'll come back to it someday. 
> 
> Man this episode always fucked me up.

Cloud's eyes flitted to the clock tower at the centre of town, mouth dry, hands shaking.

There was so much left he'd wanted to do today. Aeris, the girl who sold flowers -- he'd wanted badly to stop by and smell them. Not purchase, never purchase any, because it wasn't as though he'd ever get to take care of them, but it had been so long since he'd gotten to feel something as soft as petals.

<strike>As soft as living human skin -- </strike>

The sunset -- he'd wanted to watch that too. He'd been so busy this past week, making up for his absence at Cid's smithy. The official story was that his health was frail, as was everyone else's in his family... not that that was entirely a lie. And the townsfolk did find it odd that only one of them ever left the house at a time.

Guilt settled in his stomach along with dread, knowing what he'd have to come up back to. He'd cheated. Stayed out another month, denied someone else their chance, too selfish to return as he should have. There was a time, long ago, when returning to the manor his family lived in would have been something he'd looked forward to. Now, though, the experience was poisoned. Doubly so, since this wasn't even the only time he'd damned the rest of his family to another week in the dark.

This time, it seemed they weren't taking chances. He could feel their eyes from every carved stone gargoyle and mourning angel and weathered old saint on the way home. He swallowed as the sun dipped lower to the horizon. Soon. He'd go back soon. Like hell he was allowing himself to be dragged back inside this time.

They must all hate him. He wouldn't blame him. He certainly hated himself for it.

And yet, he'd do it again if he thought he could get away with it. In a heartbeat.

He stumbled as he lead himself through their once grand, well-kept gardens, now overgrown with brambles and dead greenery, branches tearing at his skin. He paused to stare at the blood trickling down his hand, relishing the bite of pain it brought, hot red oozing through the gash, washed over by the chill of the air around him. One last moment where he'd get to _feel_ \--

Cloud found himself at the door of the old manor, and even as his hands shook even harder, he relished the feeling of a heart pounding in his chest, of his breath coming in short, choked gasps.

He let himself into the house and waited for the sun to go down.

On the way in, he found his brother Zack, who had personally dragged him back inside the last time he'd stayed out past his time --

(_Frantic struggling against the taller man, screaming over his profuse apologies, the heartbreak in his eyes overlaid with the resolve of what must be done, because it was **his turn** \-- pleading for forgiveness that Cloud knew he should give him, even as he was hauled off back into the dark -- he hated him, he hated him, he **hated him **\--_)

He brushed some of the dust that had collected off Zack's body and hugged his immobile form. He felt like ice.

"I came back this time," he said, knowing he couldn't hear him, staring out through immobile eyes.

The Fair manor was always so maddeningly silent.

He let himself into the kitchen, where Tifa was there, sitting next to an empty bowl of fruit. She'd loved to cook for everyone. Before Cloud had gone and ruined her life by proposing, inviting her into the family. They hadn't even made it to their wedding day. They likely never would.

The sun had bleached the paint on her face, but he knew, like herself, that it was a small price to pay to get to watch the sun. They were all unearthly pale now, the colour long since drained from their eyes and skin, damned by their own love for the sunlight.

He removed a couple cobwebs from her hair, his hand lingering on her cheek smudging it with blood. He would have dearly liked to pull up a chair next to her, but she would be gone soon anyway. It was her turn. Perhaps, if he were lucky, one of his chances would align with hers to allow him to do so next time.

Instead he ascended the old, rotten stairs, the manor air musty and still -- unlived in. Undisturbed. Dead.

Cloud took a moment to stop by his mother, a gentle smile still on her face. How she found the will to smile after going back into this place, he would never know. He'd been told he had her eyes -- and perhaps he still did, bright, cheerful blue replaced with musty grey. That smile was the only thing of joy left in this place now. He planted a small kiss on her cheek, and retreated into his own room to sit by the window. The view from his room was nice enough, he supposed, but all he could think about these days was how the trees were too tall to allow him to watch the sun sink beyond the horizon in one last burst of fire.

He felt it the instant it happened anyway. A chill went through his body, spreading deeper and deeper with each second. A dull peace settled into him, stopping his heart, taking its restless yearnings with it; the tremors of fear, his longing for the sun, his urge to flee, his compulsion to _want_ and be wanted...

A marble statue does not feel, after all.

* * *

Tifa Lockhart awoke slowly to an empty house as the sun rises. Even the musty, stale air of the Fair Manor tasted sweet with promise as she sucked in her first breath. Silence greeted her, as it always did.

She fled the house without so much as a second thought. She had so much she wanted to do this week...


End file.
